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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28712154">A Sisterly Chat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio'>glorious_clio</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bridgerton (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, the sex talk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:09:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,837</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28712154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eloise never had her question answered. But your oldest sister is your third parent, anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Basset</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>442</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Sisterly Chat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Before we begin, I have to express my apologies for the sex/gender binary nonsense. If I was a better writer, I would have been able to write this without relying on it. But alas, Daphne doesn't know any other way to tell her sister about sex and pregnancy. Obviously, gender is a spectrum and unrelated to sex.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you reading, Sister?” Daphne startled Eloise. </p><p>Eloise held up the novel, <em> Maria: or, The Wrongs of Woman</em>. “One of the Mary Wollstonecraft books the Duke added to your library.”  </p><p>Daphne smiled and settled on the bench next to her younger sister. “You know, Simon ordered her books for you, when you agreed to spend the month with us.” </p><p>Wollstonecraft is still considered radical, a decade and a half after her death. Eloise was honored by Simon’s purchase on her behalf. What a brother-in-law! Anthony would never buy such books for Bridgerton House. </p><p>“You know this was the last thing she ever wrote? Sadly, it is incomplete. She died in childbirth before she could....” Eloise paled. “I am sorry, I did not mean anything.”</p><p>Daphne sighed. “Do not worry, Eloise. I do not believe you can jinx me. What is to happen will happen. I must be brave. Like Mama was.”</p><p>Eloise pursed her lips and set the book aside. </p><p>“Men may ride off to battle, but women are braver.” </p><p>Daphne smiled at that, resting her hands over her growing belly. </p><p>Clyvedon’s gardens really were lovely, so Eloise was content, more so to be out of London. Mama agreed to let her wait one more year before her debut, though with a Duchess as a sister, it does not really matter. Mama has had tea with many a’ lady with a marriageable son. </p><p>But for now, she was in the south with Daphne and, as he insisted she call him, Simon. Daphne was with child, and has chosen not to do the season this year, even after last year’s coups. </p><p>“What is the novel about?”</p><p>“You would hate it,” Eloise said. “It is about a woman imprisoned in an asylum by her awful husband, and she has a most tragic backstory. All manner of ill falls upon her, none the fault of her own. And it makes me think of Miss Thompson. So much of what happens to us is not our own will.” </p><p>“It does sound particularly grim.” </p><p>Eloise let out a sigh. “I fear I still do not understand all of it.” </p><p>Daphne leaned to the side to rest her head on Eloise’s shoulder. Her left arm was wrapped protectively over her growing bump. “It is true, no one explains realities to us. Even on my wedding day, Mama was vague. My first few weeks of my honeymoon were... rocky.” </p><p>“Well that bodes even worse for me.”</p><p>“Would you like to... understand? My experience?”</p><p>Eloise turned to face her eldest sister. “Yes. I think if I knew, I would feel better.” </p><p>“Then you must make me a promise: you must tell Francesca when she begins to ask, and she must pass this knowledge to Hyacinth. I wager Gregory will find out from our brothers, it seems the men always have the knowledge. Or they think they do.” </p><p>Eloise laughed at this. “Very well, I promise. Go on then.”</p><p>Daphne stood. “Let us walk.” </p><p>Eloise tucked her book under her arm and fell in step with her sister. </p><p>Daphne and Eloise have never particularly gotten along, but siblings tend to share a curious bond: at each other’s throats one moment, ready to kill for the other the next. This is one of the later moments—Daphne can be brave because she cannot have Eloise making the same mistakes she made. </p><p>She begins at the beginning, without the necessary words but full of certainty that she is doing the right thing. “Your menses.”</p><p>“Oh dear,” Eloise said. </p><p>“When you began them, did Mama tell you that you were now a woman?” </p><p>“She did. I was all but thirteen.”</p><p>“Yes well. That is one of nature’s signs. Right now, my menses have stopped, another of nature’s signs that a child is coming.”</p><p>“I believe I am with you so far. Does the baby come from... the same place?”</p><p>“As I understand it, yes.” Daphne flushed. </p><p>“That would explain why childbirth is so perilous.” Eloise looked concerned. </p><p>Daphne took her arm, gripping tightly. They came to a bed of lilies, just blooming. </p><p>“So how does one come to be in such a state? Surely there has to be an impetus, a beginning,” Eloise said.</p><p>“Indeed.” Daphne stooped and picked a lily. Mrs. Colson might be outraged, but they are her gardens, after all. “Our brothers, my husband, men are formed differently.” She handed the flower to her younger sister. “Do you know which part is the stamen?”</p><p>“Of course. It produces the pollen.” Eloise pointed. </p><p>“Men have... a similar organ. Between their legs. So that, goes, well. In.”</p><p>“You have to be joking.”</p><p>“I am not! It may seem quite rude at first, but I assure you, if your husband is a reformed rake, or has passing interest and curiosity in you, it can be quite... delightful.”</p><p>“And then the pollen goes in your flower and you create a seed.”</p><p>“Yes.” Daphne smiled.</p><p>“Upon my word. Why must society make this conversation so difficult?” </p><p>“I think because it is very intimate indeed. And the pleasure it can produce is very... well. It can take your breath away.”</p><p>“Hmmm. It does not sound so different than what happens at night.” Eloise linked her arm through Daphne’s again, twirling the lily with the other hand. </p><p>Daphne stopped in her tracks. “I... what can you mean?”</p><p>“You know. When you are alone. It is quite... surely it must be universal! Are you telling me you never explored your own body? When you ceased to be a child?” </p><p>Daphne took in her sister. “Yes. Last summer, before we were engaged. But the idea had never occurred to me before.” </p><p>Eloise smirked, pleased that she had at least figured <em> something </em> out before her sister. </p><p>“Smugness is not a good look on you,” Daphne teased. </p><p>“But a frequent one!” </p><p>Arm in arm, the sisters made their way back to Clyvedon for luncheon. </p><p> </p><p>They met Simon in the morning room, where the Duke and Duchess now took all their family meals, informal to the point of serving their own plates. Gentlemen did not usually spend this meal with ladies, and often Simon and his new steward bought a pasty from a local inn during a break between estate business. But today, Simon teased that he was not a usual gentleman anyway. </p><p>Daphne had redecorated this room, and it was now her favorite periwinkle colour with a fresh coat of white paint on the plasterwork filigrees on the wall. A large, circular table in the center anchored the room. The room was surrounded by comfortable, plush dining chairs in a blue and purple with a floral pattern. No doubt chosen to hide stains when the Hastings children learned to dine.  </p><p>The windows in the room faced south, there was no need for any other illumination on the fresh spring day. The chandelier was unused, but the crystals bounced rainbows around. The diaphanous curtains breathed as the air currents caught them. The room was filled with fresh flowers, with no other ornamentation than the porcelain and crystal dishes on the table. </p><p>Simon had already drawn up chairs for them, and after the sisters filled up their plates at the sideboard, Daphne sat in between her husband and Eloise. Despite the splendor, the room was built for comfort, and the servants waited outside.</p><p>“Simon, I must thank you for purchasing Wollstonecraft for your library,” Eloise began. She was sometimes still uneasy around this man that had captured her sister’s heart. Staring at a vase full of cut flowers, she tried not to think of... stamens. </p><p>“Not at all. It is my fondest wish that all Bridgertons are comfortable here,” Simon replied. </p><p>“In that case, you might wish to hide them from my brothers,” Eloise said. </p><p>“Nonsense. I cannot see any of them in the library,” Daphne said. </p><p>Luncheon was light; fresh bread and clotted cream and cheese, an array of vegetables from local farmers, some fresh fish from local lakes, essentially a repast before dinner at eight. Daphne and Eloise sipped at a pot of tea, Simon was imbibing in a glass of wine. </p><p>They were talking about plans later in the week, taking the carriage to the ruins of Hastings Castle and Battle Abbey when Daphne’s brow suddenly creased. Cutlery clattering on her plate, her hands flew to her stomach. </p><p>“Daphne?” Simon took her arm, Eloise half stood as if to run for a maid or a doctor or... help. </p><p>“I am quite well,” Daphne said after a moment. “I think...” she grabbed for Simon’s hand and pressed it to her abdomen and waited. </p><p>Confusion and concern melted off his face after a moment, leaving only surprise in their wake. </p><p>“Sister, what is happening?” Eloise demanded, still not convinced she should run for someone. </p><p>“It is the Quickening,” Daphne said, reaching for Eloise’s hand. Simon still had not moved, a look of awe and delight radiated from him as he gazed adoringly at Daphne. “I have felt him—”</p><p>“—her—” Simon interjected.</p><p>“—moving softly for days, but now... the kicks are stronger. Would you like to feel?”</p><p>Eloise nodded, and Daphne settled her sister’s hand on her belly next to Simon’s. Daphne favored short stays, and there were only a few layers of fabric between her and Eloise’s hand. Eloise was about to ask what she was waiting for when she felt it, a ripple, a pressure, and then it was gone.</p><p>Eloise pulled her hand back, and Simon did the same, kissing Daphne on his way back to standing. </p><p>“Clever you,” he said. </p><p>Daphne indeed looked very pleased with herself, but then recovering herself, encouraged them to sit again, to finish their light meal. </p><p>Simon could not stop smiling, slopping a little wine on his waistcoat as he sipped. Eloise pretended not to notice, nor how her sister’s eyes kept glancing at him. Blushing a little, biting her lip, cradling her teacup. For his part, he seemed to lean closer and closer still, then correcting to smile or nod at Eloise. </p><p>Eloise kept looking at the flowers. </p><p>Finally, she rested her fork and knife on the table. “If you will excuse me, I think I shall read in the library for a while.”</p><p>Daphne had the good grace to look surprised, Simon stood up as his sister-in-law did. </p><p>“Oh, Daph, I was wondering: do you have a greenhouse, or are the flowers only in the gardens?”</p><p>Daphne cleared her throat. “No, there is no greenhouse at Clyvedon.”</p><p>Simon looked confused. “I did not realize you had a green thumb, Miss Eloise.” </p><p>Eloise’s laugh rang out. “I do not, but Daphne was explaining a few things about the... gardens... earlier. See you at tea, Sister?”</p><p>Blushing now, Daphne nodded. </p><p>“Excellent.” She picked up her book and indeed headed to the library. As she settled in with her book, her last thought to the Duchess was that she might have shown a bit more gratitude at the chance to do a bit more gardening with her obviously keen Duke. </p>
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